Knowing Her
by jaded innocence
Summary: "...and it was only the Junkie and her Angel, back to something that imitated normal"-L/L


*  
  
Knowing Her  
  
by jaded innocence  
  
  
  
*  
  
As she sits at his counter, clutching to her cup of coffee, he gets a sense of déjà  
  
vu and he wonders vaguely how many times he's seen her do this. Then he  
  
wonders how many times he wished she would clutch to him instead of her  
  
coffee, and want him the way he wants her.  
  
  
  
But she doesn't, and he knows it. Instead of looking at him with hazy eyes,  
  
voicing husky demands like she does in his dreams, she's letting tears fall into  
  
her coffee over someone else. He watches the glassy liquid play off azure  
  
underneath her lashes and tries to ignore the heat rising in him that always  
  
does, that same odd mix of anger and lust that throws him when she cries salty  
  
into her coffee over Christopher.  
  
  
  
"They're married, Luke. And I just stood there and let it happen." She says,  
  
shaky, and he looks at her delicately, like she might break. Then his  
  
expression hardens, and he closes off.  
  
  
  
"Maybe it's for the best," he mumbles gruffly, and passes her a doughnut. He  
  
knows that chocolate won't fix everything. He also knows that when concerning  
  
Lorelai, it can fix many things. And giving her sugar is easier than telling her  
  
that she deserves better than Christopher. Besides, she should know that by  
  
now. Luke always knew the guy was a dick anyway. At least, he thinks he  
  
knew. And he prides himself on it. He knows what's good for her. Why can't she  
  
figure it out? She smiles at him, watery and thin, the kind that  
  
doesn't reach her eyes, and he knows she hasn't figured it out yet. He braces  
  
himself for her questions and teary wondering.  
  
  
  
"Thanks, Luke." She states it simply, and it surprises him. He wonders where  
  
her questions on how it's for the best have gone. He hopes, just for a moment,  
  
that this will be the last time he has to listen her cry over Christopher. Maybe  
  
she gets it.  
  
  
  
He doesn't know that his hope is in vain. Luke never realizes until she tells him.  
  
But she never tells him in so many words.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
"Another child, Luke. They're having another baby. And I just stood there and  
  
let it happen. And Rory looked so crazy happy when she found out, almost  
  
like...the look I get when you make me pie, and she looked like she belonged in  
  
that family."  
  
  
  
"Rory belongs with you. You know that, and I know that." Luke tells her,  
  
impatiently this time. Second time he's heard about Chris this month. She  
  
doesn't get it yet. He wonders if she ever will. He absently wipes the counter.  
  
  
  
"Rory's not mine anymore. Nothing's mine anymore." Lorelai shudders  
  
as she grips the countertop. "She's off at college, and Chris has his child, and  
  
I..." She leaves her thoughts to float. Lorelai feels numb, and Luke can see it  
  
on her face. He wants to make her feel again, but he knows he wouldn't be  
  
the one that could do that. He tries anyway, forgetting for a moment. He  
  
leans into her. She's intoxicating, like a drug. She smells like coffee beans and  
  
something tangy. Caffeine is a drug, isn't it? He doesn't think. He just grabs  
  
her hand and squeezes. She jumps, and he lets go suddenly, snapping back.  
  
  
  
Her eyes are wide for a few moments, searching him. He feels color creeping up  
  
his neck, and his hand is burning oddly. He doesn't know that hers is too. Then  
  
her normal expression resumes and everything is back in rhythm. He doesn't  
  
know what the hell he was thinking. This isn't a Meg Ryan movie, he tells  
  
himself. What the hell did you expect to happen? He snaps around the other  
  
way, and waits until the want bubbling low in his stomach subsides. He hears  
  
her footsteps echo against the tiles on the floor, and waits until he hears the  
  
door open before he turns back. Luke doesn't catch the small wave Lorelai  
  
tosses him.  
  
  
  
As he watches her walk away, he sighs heavy and lets the tone of it wash over  
  
his hope and drown it.  
  
  
  
*  
  
Luke is in the grocery store, reveling in the lack of Taylor. He passes the aisle  
  
with the coffee stacked and tries to ignore the memories from the other night.  
  
He can still smell her. He feels ridiculously girly for thinking this, and switches  
  
his thoughts to anything else that he finds to switch to. Something taps him  
  
on the back, and he turns face to face with a woman. A hot one, he can't help  
  
but note.  
  
  
  
"Are you Lucas Danes?" the woman asks. Her blonde hair spills over her back,  
  
her green eyes search him. Her scent isn't like Lorelai's, he thinks, then he  
  
shuts himself up.  
  
  
  
"Luke." He's not feeling friendly. Lorelai hasn't been in for coffee for two days.  
  
Not that he cares, he reminds himself. Probably still wallowing over Chris, he  
  
thinks bitterly.  
  
  
  
"I've heard a lot about you. I recognized you by the flannel." She speaks  
  
warmly, teasing him slightly.  
  
  
  
"From who?" he asks gruffly, feeling surprised. He can't help but let his eyes  
  
wander the length of her. She's curvy. Slim, too, though. She's draped in some  
  
cotton, flimsy, summer dress. Not revealing, but clingy enough. Not like  
  
Lorelai's skirts. He knows her legs like the back of his hand. They've been  
  
in his dreams for too long...along with the rest of her. Damn her stupid sexy  
  
legs. Damn Lorelai. She's got Chris. Back to this woman.  
  
  
  
"Taylor," the woman says, grinning wide. Luke grunts and smiles a little too.  
  
"He seems like a freak to me though, so I won't believe anything he says," she  
  
continues.  
  
  
  
"Seems wise. Unless it was good." Luke replies, looking at her curiously.  
  
  
  
"Some," she said, tilting her head. Her eyes still search him in that funny way.  
  
  
  
"My name's Belle." She tells him. He resists the urge to laugh.  
  
  
  
"Like in Beauty and the Beast?"  
  
  
  
"Most men don't make that connection, but yes," she affirms, looking at him  
  
slyly. He colors slightly, the blush rising crimson through to the tips of his ears.  
  
She laughs quietly as he stutters, not saying anything coherent. Then she  
  
throws him one last wave as she turns the corner.  
  
  
  
He tries to go back to thinking about nothing, but he can't. She's invading his  
  
thoughts. They both are.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
He bumps into Belle outside the diner. He nearly jumps out of his skin. Then he  
  
collects himself.  
  
  
  
"Sorry," they say, in tandem, his voice gruff, hers soft and unassuming.  
  
  
  
Luke shrugs. She smiles at him, and the monotony of his day breaks for a few  
  
colorful seconds. He leads her inside the diner. She sits in the stool Lorelai  
  
usually does. Reflexively, he grabs a coffee mug, then sets it back down and  
  
asks her what she wants to drink. She wants fruit juice. He gets it for her,  
  
and talks to her in between greasy French fries and demanding customers for  
  
the rest of the afternoon.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Lorelai sips her coffee. Luke watches. It would be a normal day, except Lorelai's  
  
looking particularly dismal. She wasn't before. Luke wonders why for a little  
  
while, but then he realizes he's happy enough not to lose himself in anti- Chris  
  
thoughts.  
  
  
  
Belle asked him out. Lorelai watched. He saw her out of the corner of his eyes,  
  
and her blue ones were darting between the two of them like it was a tennis  
  
match. Only it wasn't. It was some beautiful woman asking him out, all  
  
assertive and matter-of-fact. And he noticed that Lorelai's face drooped after  
  
that. But he refused to think she was jealous. She wasn't. Was she? No.  
  
  
  
Not that it mattered, really. He was going out with Belle whether she liked it  
  
or not. He liked her genuinely. She'd been talking to him all week. She seemed  
  
like him. Quiet, dry sense of humor. Not as aggressive as the first few  
  
impressions. Less like Lorelai than he had thought.  
  
  
  
Lorelai would say one flannel-man personality was enough in a relationship. Not  
  
that it mattered what she would say, really.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
"So, Belle, huh?" she begins cautiously, regarding Luke with what he incorrectly  
  
interpreted as careful curiosity.  
  
  
  
"Yup," Luke responds, short. He wonders why she's asking.  
  
  
  
"Well...." she pauses for what seems like hours. He doesn't know why she's  
  
doing this. He tinkers around with dirty plates and coffee mugs behind the  
  
counter. They clink, graciously filling the awkward silence between them.  
  
  
  
"Does that make you the beast?" she finally asks, a little grin on her face.  
  
  
  
He rolls his eyes. Now he knows why she's doing this. She continues on,  
  
rambling. "Well, you are a little scruffy. You could pass the for beast, even  
  
though you're much hotter. I mean, you guys could even do a little role-  
  
playing. You know, reenact the balcony scene. It might be fun."  
  
  
  
Did she just call him hot? He wonders to himself. Nah. Wait, wait. Role- playing?  
  
  
  
"Lorelai. That's so unnecessary."  
  
  
  
"No, Lukey, I'd say that the unnecessary part is falling for someone named  
  
Belle." She says it like a joke. It's not a very convincing one, but Luke's  
  
deaf. He doesn't hear the hidden undertone. All he hears is her teasing tone,  
  
and he figures it's good that she's ok with all of this, because he very well could  
  
get attached to Belle. Especially since Lorelai can't get attached to him.  
  
  
  
Her cerulean eyes would've looked a little jade to anyone else that was listening  
  
and watching, but no one was, and it was only the Junkie and her Angel,  
  
back to something that imitated normal. She finishes her pie and he watches  
  
her, like always. Then he turns and starts doing the dishes. This time, she  
  
watches him too.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
"That was a really stupid movie," Belle commented walking out of Maid in  
  
Manhattan. Luke has to agree. It was the typical chick flick, just as he'd  
  
expected, but Belle kept talking about Jennifer Lopez, and she'd made him see  
  
it. It ended up being fun anyway. They'd mocked the guy she'd fallen for in the  
  
movie the whole time.  
  
  
  
She looks good, he notes. She has a short dress on, emerald. It matches her  
  
eyes, sets off her hair and pale skin. And her cleavage. Luke notices. He doesn't  
  
stare. For most of the night, anyway. She does have a nice body, he admits to  
  
himself.  
  
  
  
They walk and talk. He laces her hand in hers cautiously and is rewarding with  
  
her smile and a warm full feeling as he walks. They reach the diner, and he  
  
stands there awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. It feels odd, doing this  
  
again, when he hasn't for so long. He's wondering whether to kiss her or not,  
  
when she does it for him. Her lips linger on his, soft and inviting for a few  
  
quick seconds before she walks away, leaving him blotchy and stammering.  
  
  
  
Luke stands there long enough for a pajama-clad Lorelai to escape quietly  
  
through the night, taking in bursts of air from shock and cold. All she wanted  
  
was a cup of coffee. Maybe some comforting from Luke. Instead, she got  
  
something she didn't exactly bargain for. It's green, dark, and eating away  
  
at her stomach. She can't watch him stammer. She can't take this.  
  
  
  
Luke hears footsteps, but then it grows quiet and he refuses to acknowledge  
  
that he's heard anything or anyone that could tamper with the start of  
  
something decent in his life.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Things are stiff and silent between Lorelai and Luke for coffee mornings. Coffee  
  
nights no longer exist. It's Luke and Belle, and Lorelai and the television,  
  
instead. Luke doesn't understand when things changed. Lorelai can pinpoint  
  
the date and time when she realized that she couldn't keep going on with  
  
Luke like she was. And that was when she saw them.  
  
  
  
Luke doesn't know she did, and even if he did know, he would refuse to see  
  
that Lorelai might be jealous. It was too much to hope for.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
They aren't talking.  
  
  
  
She barely comes in the diner at all anymore, and he misses her like crazy. His  
  
dreams are invaded by Lorelai's body, Lorelai's wit, Lorelai's everything, and he  
  
knows they shouldn't be. But they will be invaded until he can patch this up.  
  
The problem is, he doesn't know exactly what he did to destroy everything so  
  
fast. So Burt the Toolbox can't patch this one up.  
  
Lorelai's alone. She's tired of it. Every night she cries into her coffee flavored  
  
ice cream, the substitute for Luke's coffee. It's not a very good substitute, she  
  
notes one night. Possibly because it's not Luke's coffee, but Luke's presence,  
  
that she's missing.  
  
  
  
She's lonely and confused. She doesn't know why she's thinking about Luke all  
  
the time. Well, deep down she knows, but she doesn't recognize what she  
  
knows. Lorelai never did know. Know what was good for her, that is.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Luke comes home from Belle's house, late at night. He's walking through the  
  
grey of twilight, stomping all the way. He had screwed this one up. He had  
  
been holding her, moaning into her mouth, but all he could think about was  
  
Lorelai. Unfortunately, he chose that one moment in his life to be verbal  
  
and say something without thinking about it. How was he supposed to know  
  
that the name of another woman would slip out when he was about to screw  
  
his girlfriend? Goddamn mouth, he thinks to himself. He's still stomping when  
  
he gets to the diner, and he almost stomps on a broken beer bottle.  
  
  
  
Several, he realizes, reaching the step. And curled up on the corner of the step  
  
is Lorelai. What the hell? He wonders what she's doing there, all curled up and  
  
drunk in her camisole and pajama pants in the breeze of the summer night. He  
  
scoops her up and carries her in, concerned she's passed out. The moment he  
  
touches her face, her eyes fly open and she mumbles his name. It rumbles  
  
through his chest, husky and sleepy.  
  
  
  
"Luke," she says, calling out to him again. Her words are sleep-slurry, and he  
  
can tell she's not as drunk as he'd thought. Just a little tipsy, maybe. He sets  
  
her on a bar stool and leaves to get her some coffee. She won't let go of his  
  
arm. He obliges and sits with her, holding her waist in his hands. She falls  
  
into him and groggily makes several admissions that makes Luke understand.  
  
  
  
Then she crawls into his lap. And he just holds her for a while. He needs this.  
  
  
  
*  
  
And when she awakens, something about her is different. Something's in her  
  
eyes, red and black, raw and burning. It feels like what's rising in his jeans  
  
now that she's straddling his lap as she wakes up, tossing her scent every  
  
which way and grasping his arm to sit up. Her pelvis thrusts forward as she  
  
regains balance, and he can't control anything anymore.  
  
  
  
She feels it too. He can feel it in her pulse, hear it in her chest, see it on her  
  
face. And he doesn't know what's going on. Hell. Neither does she. All she  
  
knows is that she's broken, and Luke can fix everything else. He should  
  
be able to fix this too.  
  
  
  
She crashes into him, ascending up the stairs with burning lips and good  
  
hands. The world goes crimson as she moans, her lips touching his in the  
  
slightest of caresses before she pulls him down on the bed with her.  
  
  
  
He tries to stop her...well, sort of. In between caresses. Then he feels like  
  
he might explode and stops trying to stop her. She's tipsy anyway, so it's  
  
a one time thing. He may as well savor what he's got now.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
He wakes up with her under his arm. It feels too right, and he tries really hard  
  
not to get attached to this feeling of rightness. He sits there, stroking her hair,  
  
awaiting the moment when she wakes up and realizes what it is they've done.  
  
She intoxicates him, even in the early morning, and her drugging scent rids  
  
him of all guilt he'd had over Belle the night before.  
  
  
  
He's not thinking about Belle right now. Belle is fixable, eventually. And even if  
  
she isn't, he knows somewhere deep that Lorelai is all that matters.  
  
  
  
Her eyelashes flutter, and he draws back a little, holding his breath. She  
  
doesn't run like she was supposed to. Instead, her eyes fix hard on his, and  
  
they lay there for a while. He can't help it. He's attached.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Lorelai just got up and left. He knew it would come eventually. Not even a  
  
'thanks, Luke, you were amazing,' or 'gee, Luke, you really suck in bed....wait,  
  
wait, that was dirty. Never mind.' She just keeps staring at him in that funny  
  
way, gathering her clothes and getting dressed slowly in front of him, like she's  
  
trying to torture him.  
  
  
  
Then her azure eyes go wide like a deer caught in headlights, and she walks  
  
out. Luke goes to open the diner and grabs a beer on his way down, trying  
  
to help the buzzing in his head subside. He should have known this was going  
  
to happen. Well, actually he did know. And she knew. Well, she knew why she  
  
had done it. But she still didn't know exactly what was good for her. She never  
  
did, he thought.  
  
  
  
*  
  
Lorelai comes in for coffee, timid and hesitant. The town knows by now, she  
  
thinks. Patty saw her running from the diner early. Sookie told her to just go  
  
with it. She couldn't just go with it. He was better than Max, better than  
  
Christopher, even. She shivered still at the way he had looked at her before she  
  
left. Like this was the way it was supposed to be.  
  
  
  
Problem is, she isn't sure if this is the way it's supposed to be. And she's taken  
  
too many risks so far, she can't lose something so great.  
  
  
  
She slides up to the counter, relieved and disheartened both that he's not  
  
there. She orders her cup of coffee and drinks it in peace until he comes  
  
bursting out of the kitchen. The diner silences watching both of their mouths  
  
open and close like goldfish against the fish tank glass.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
He didn't think she would come, but he knew she would. She needs coffee  
  
like air, and she can't make her own like his. She's sitting there, watching  
  
him, all sweet and unsure, looking scared. His heart jumps when he realizes  
  
that she's not disgusted. She just doesn't know what to do with this.  
  
  
  
For that matter, neither does he. They pause, the diner pauses. Everything  
  
is on hold, quivering like the television picture when the movie's on still.  
  
Then Lorelai's eyes well up, and Luke's world crashes. Why is she crying? She  
  
can't cry now. She's crying quietly, her shoulders barely shaking.  
  
  
  
"I don't want to lose you, Luke. I don't know if I can do this." She blurts.  
  
She's overemotional, shocked and terrified at what's she's done.  
  
  
  
He should have figured. He tries to say something sympathetic,  
  
Something to comfort. All he can say is, "You just did last night.  
  
It's too late to say you don't know."  
  
  
  
She looks at him, her head tilted. "I don't want to have to miss you  
  
again. Missing you sucks. It makes me fat." Her tears are running  
  
silent down her face, but she doesn't look sad.  
  
  
  
He shakes his head. He has no idea what she's talking about. She looks  
  
damn good to him. And she wouldn't have to miss him if she was with him  
  
forever. He just says nothing, then he tries.  
  
  
  
"You wouldn't have to. How do you know you'll lose this?"  
  
  
  
"Because it's too perfect to last."  
  
  
  
He wants to smile at this, but he can't. "Maybe it's perfect  
  
because it's supposed to last. C'mon Lorelai, what about...  
  
about last night?" he asks, his face brightening red a little.  
  
  
  
Her eyes are bright. "I was a little tipsy and all," she begins,  
  
and that hardens him up quick. He should've known she would  
  
make excuses. She didn't want this like he thought she did. It was a one  
  
time thing, just like he'd predicted. He always knew her better than he wanted.  
  
  
  
She tries to finish her sentence, but he interrupts. "Know what Lorelai?  
  
Forget it. Just forget it. I understand."  
  
  
  
"...because I missed you so much." She continues. "All I needed was to escape  
  
from not having you." Her voice breaks, and all he wants then is for her to stop  
  
crying. He's going soft from her words and her tears. Damn Lorelai, always  
  
softening his resolve at the wrong time. "And you came back for me, and I  
  
needed you. And I got what I needed. But I still don't feel whole."  
  
  
  
He doesn't think, doesn't speak, just waits for her to continue.  
  
And when she doesn't, he waits. When she still says nothing, he can't think of  
  
anything else to say. He gets it. It's not him that can complete her.  
  
  
  
At least his lips have touched hers once. He can revel in that for a few days. He  
  
gets an order ready, ignoring the way his heart feeling like it's not there.  
  
  
  
She closes her eyes for a minute, gaining strength.  
  
  
  
"Luke!"  
  
  
  
"What?" He spins, wondering what she could possibly have to say now that  
  
she's said the sex just didn't do it for her, that he wan't good enough.  
  
  
  
"I wasn't whole because I didn't have you anymore. I don't want just  
  
sex with you. I want it...the whole package." She whispers so softly, he thinks  
  
that he's imagining. "And it scares me that I want that, because I know I can't  
  
ever be without you. And if I ruin this, I'll have to, because we'll never be  
  
friends again."  
  
  
  
"I've got the coffee. We'd have to be." He smiles. And so does she.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
When he wakes up in the morning, the bright sun pissing him off for  
  
waking him up so early, all he has to do is look sideways. She's there, and the  
  
sun's always glowy on her face, and it makes him forget why he was pissy in  
  
the first place.  
  
  
  
That's because she finally realized what was good for her. Well, aside from the  
  
fact that she's highly caffeinated and pregnant. And she finally got it. And he  
  
knows it was mostly Belle's fault, and the beer, and the loneliness of that night.  
  
He knows this whole thing was lottery and luck. If she hadn't seen them  
  
together, she wouldn't have cared, and if she wasn't tipsy and lonely, they  
  
never would have started anything.  
  
  
  
He knows it because he knows her too well. And even though he knows that  
  
had events played out differently, she wouldn't be with him, he still thinks  
  
knowing her too well is some kind of crazy blessing.  
  
  
  
*  
  
finished  
  
*  
  
Criticism, praise. Whatever. Just press the button for me :)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
" 


End file.
